"John."
"Mmm?"
"I fear its entirely careless of me not to find out what a human being tastes like. What if I need the data?."
John froze.
"You want to taste what?!"
Sherlock peered through impossible eyes over steepled fingers and his mouth curled into a small smile.
"Yes John," he said, though it sounded more like "Dzhawn", "I want to know what a human being tastes like."
John paled. "Thats... Thats canibalism, Sherlock. That's illegal. And, and, disturbing, and horrible and terrifying-"
"Oh no no, I don't want to eat anyone," Sherlock waved his fingers vaguely in John's direction.
John visibly relaxed.
"Okay, so do you want to see if there are any cannibal-slash-murder cases-"
"John, you misunderstand me. I don't want to eat anyone," Sherlock admonished, his gaze now wide open and targetted like lasers towards John.
John frowned. "Then what do you mean- oh."
John paled even more, beneath his tan.
Sherlock grinned, like a cat who had just stolen the cream off the milk. "I want to taste you, John. Just you."
John stuttered, his hands shaking slightly. "Uh, Sherlock, right." He cleared his throat. "Well, don't you think we should talk about this? I am willing to do most things for you but, uhm, well, this is... Uhhhh."
Sherlock unfurled himself from the sofa, and like a panther, slowly slinked towards John, who was trying to make himself smaller on the cushions.
He shrank back as Sherlock crowded his personal space.
"John, do you trust me?"
John gulped. "Y-yes. But Sherlock, I-"
His brain short circuited as Sherlock, ever the madman, licked the tip of his nose.
John pulled back, startled, but Sherlock just inched closer, a look that could only be described as 'scheming' on his face, and licked his left cheek, before lapping lightly at the corners of John's lips, then ears, then jawline.
"Sherlock!" John pushed him away but Sherlock was stronger than he looked and John's arms were, truth be told, shaking and weakened by the lack of blood, which had promptly rushed southward.
Sherlock chuckled. "Mmmm John, you taste like salt... (lick) and tea (lick) and that cheap soap you use."
John could only gape as Sherlock licked his entire face, then ran his tongue down the long mile towards his chest.
It was when Sherlock cleverly undid a few buttons and licked at his nipple that John decided Sherlock was a god to which all fealty and obedience must be given, and he went quite boneless.
When Sherlock dilligently nibbled at the crease where hip met thigh, John decided obedience would simply not do, and worship was in order.
Then Sherlock swallowed his hot, aching erection, and John became very, very holy indeed.
"Sherlock."
"Mmmfrrhhmm."
"What does a human being taste like?"
"Like you, John. Like you."